Page 11 of Blind Spot
I kissed a bruise on his right rib cage. “Heath’s stick this morning,” I said into his skin. “I saw you take it.”
I sucked at the tender spot, and he hissed lightly. Then I moved over to the right and licked the light trail down the center of his abs.
“Luki.”
“Yeah?” I smiled at him.
“Slow.”
I knew how to take it slow. I kissed down to his navel. I knew Rook’s body. I had been doing field research for five years.
He looked at me. “Pants.”
I helped him out of those. He lifted his hips, and I dropped them on top of his T-shirt. Straddling him again, I sat back on my heels and looked at my man in the half-light from the hall.
He looked unfair. Not young—we’d both skated past that. He was unreasonably handsome. Hockey had tightened him over the years rather than thickened him. He had long, muscular legs and heavy forearms. Scars crossed his body at random angles, like roads snaking through an atlas of the mountains.
And his face—God.
The public version of Rook was all hard jaw, narrowed eyes, and don’t-start-with-me posture. The man in my bed looked like somebody took that face and breathed humanity back into it.
“What?” he asked, already smiling a little.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“I’m looking respectfully.”
“I’m naked.”
“I will be too. Shh. I’m being professional about this.”
He snorted once through his nose, and there it was again, the private version of him nobody else got to see. The one that made me feel, every single time, like I’d somehow shoplifted something priceless and gotten away clean.
He reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it off. I peeled off my jeans, and I was on him, smooth skin to that hairy chest, sliding down until my collarbone connected with his thigh. He was already hard, and his cock pressed against my cheek.
I slid my tongue along the length of it while I gripped the base, feeling it jump. “Fuck,” he muttered.
When I took the head between my lips, Rook arched his back, muscles pulling taut in his thighs. I worked slowly, rocking my head forward and back.
I reached up with one hand, rubbing his chest and rolling a nipple between finger and thumb. He grunted. He had a full vocabulary of sex sounds I could never get enough of.
Pulling my mouth back, I dragged my thumb across his cock head. His body jerked.
“Eyes,” I said. He opened them, but he couldn’t pull them completely into focus. He was getting close.
“When your eyes are open, you go there with me,” I whispered.
He curled the fingers of one hand into the sheets, and he swatted my bare ass with the other. I grinned and swallowed his cockhead again.
I stroked the base of his cock, and he swatted me again. I loved the sting.
When I tugged on the nipple, he hissed, and his ab muscles contracted. He was close.
“Look at me,” I said again.
“Please, fuck.” He struggled to keep the eyes open. His jaw went slack.
